


Look What You Made Me Do

by ScarletDestiny



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Jon will always be Arya's brother, POV Arya Stark, arya is a badass, mentions of family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 21:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20015365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletDestiny/pseuds/ScarletDestiny
Summary: There is no line Arya Stark would not cross if it meant ensuring her family's safety. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives.





	Look What You Made Me Do

Blood dripped off of Needle’s edge, splattering to the stoneflags below without a sound yet Arya heard each drop hit with the force of a dragon’s roar. Clothes caked in ash and dried blood, tunic torn and the skin below dotted in multi-colored bruises, her figure told the story of her desperate run through Kings Landing. Heartwrenching screams of those burned alive sounded in her ears as she stared sightlessly out upon the mob of people congregated in the courtyard. Most were as of yet unaware of her presence. 

All except Jon, who had noticed her the moment she stepped foot out of the keep. Brows furrowed in concern, he rushed over to her, hand on the hilt of his sword as though there was an enemy behind her needing to be slain. 

“Arya!” She glanced up at the sound of her name piercing through screams of the dead. Her eyes lit with life upon seeing Jon coming towards her, though she made no move to join him. Numb from the day’s events, her legs felt like lead and refused to take even one step forward.

“What happened?” he questioned, tone filled with worry as he gazed upon her frightful state. No doubt she appeared to be a ghost risen from the dead, covered as she was in ash and debris of the city. “Where have you been?” His hands reached out to touch her, to comfort, but the blood coating Needle held him back. No one wanted to embrace death.

Arya found her voice slowly, and even once she began, her voice sounded distant, as though someone else were speaking through her. She found she didn’t mind. The energy it would take to explain...it was too much for her battered body.

“I couldn’t save father when Lannister guards came for him, when they dragged him onto that platform -” monotonous, her voice carried on even as the day was clearly spread out before her eyes. Reliving those awful moments of helplessness. “I couldn’t do anything to stop him dying.” 

Her eyes narrowed, a small smile springing to her lips. “But I got my revenge. I made certain Ilyn Payne knew who I was, and then I stabbed him until his blood covered my body.” Jon frowned at the imagery but made no move to interrupt her. 

“I couldn’t save mother or Robb either,” she admitted. “I saw what they did to Robb after they killed him. Cut off his head just like father. Paraded him around; they joked and laughed, but they didn’t know I was listening.” 

Again, she had made sure Walder Frey and his entire household suffered grievously for those murders. Slew his sons and cooked them into meat pies. Sliced his neck and poisoned the others. No one had been left alive. It was only fair.

“I couldn’t save Bran or Sansa either, from their sufferings and trials.” Even now she felt guilt over her words to Sansa. How much of it had been an act meant to convince Littlefinger he had turned sister against sister? Even Arya could not tell. “But I cut Petry’s neck at Sansa’s command and brought mother’s and father’s spirits to rest.” Betrayed, they had all been so terribly betrayed.

And poor Rickon...the boy had never stood a chance. Arya hadn’t known he had died until long after, when she heard the tale from a guard at Winterfell. The Battle of the Bastards, they called it. So much death on both sides. Needless. Pointless. There was no honor.

“But what were you doing in the keep?” Jon finally asked.

Eyes fixing suddenly onto Jon’s confused expression, her grin turned feral. “You’ve always been a Stark to me,” she insisted. “And I knew I could save you before I needed to avenge you.”

She watched as his eyes clouded, disbelief shining through as the truth struck him. His gaze turned to Needle where blood still dripped freely from the point. “What did you do?” 

Arya realized he already knew, but she said the words regardless. Crossing off that final name on her list - one she had added without ever telling a living soul. She had whispered it into the ear of her final victim as Needle slipped through plates of fancy armor and found purchase in that black heart that tried to steal her brother away. 

“I killed the queen.”


End file.
